Cowboy Colt by Dandi Daley Mackall

garage. “Ellie?”
    â€œIs Colt okay?” I ask. I was in such a hurry that I forgot the bag of books for Colt.
    â€œYes,” she answers.
    â€œThat’s good. Um, I have his assignments. You know, so he won’t get behind. Only I left them at my house.”
    â€œThoughtful,” she says. “But unnecessary.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œColt already has his assignments for the week.”
    â€œIs he that sick?” I want to ask if I can see him.
    â€œHe’s not sick at all,” she explains.
    â€œBut you said—”
    Mrs. Stevens blows out air the way horses do when they’re getting riled. “Colt and Sierra are spending the week in St. Louis. With their father.” I start to ask why, but she cuts me off. “Thank you for your concern, though.” She puts one hand on the garage door opener.
    I turn and leave the garage. The door closes behind me.
    When I get home, I hear Dad and the Bear discussing the used car commercial. Mostly it’s the Bear talking. He stays to eat a late dinner with us.
    I fill everybody in on Colt’s mysterious St. Louis trip with his dad. “I don’t get it. Why would he and his sister miss a whole week of school? Why would their parents let them?”
    Mom and Dad exchange looks. Ethan and I think they have their own sign language. They talk with their eyes.
    â€œWhat?” I know they know something. “What aren’t you telling me? Colt is my friend. I have a right to know.”
    â€œIf he’ll be back in a week, I guess you can ask him yourself then,” Dad says. “Please pass those yummy mashed potatoes.”
    I turn my gaze to Mom. She zips her lips closed, then swallows the invisible key. I get it. They’re not talking.

11

    Bullet
    Wednesday after supper Ethan and I sit on our front porch to wait for the Bear. He flew all the way to his ranch in Tulsa, Oklahoma, on Tuesday just to pick up his horse. Now it’s taking him all day to drive back with his horse trailer.
    After a while, the sun goes down and the moon rises. A low whine of crickets starts up. I describe this to Ethan the best I can. A dog is barking far away somewhere. Munch hears it from inside our house and barks back.
    Sometimes I think about this whole world of sound that Ethan misses out on, and it makes me sad. But I know God makes it up to him in ways the rest of us can’t understand.
    Are you sure Colt’s mother doesn’t know you’re giving him a horse? Ethan signs.
    I’m sure.
    But doesn’t that look like a barn to you?
    Ethan’s right. All day long, eight men hammered away at what’s starting to look like the frame for a two-story barn. Colt’s backyard is almost twice as big as ours. It’s already fenced in too. How great would that be if they were putting up a barn!
    There he is! Ethan signs.
    A rusty, beat-up tan-and-silver horse trailer bounces along our road. It’s too dark to see into the cab of the truck pulling it. But it’s got to be the Bear behind the wheel.
    He pulls into our driveway. Ethan and I run to meet him. I go straight to the back of the trailer and peer in. It’s dark. All I can see is that the horse is about Dream’s height.
    â€œOut of the way,” the Bear roars.
    I step back to give him room to put down the tailgate. “Why did you name him Bullet?” I ask. Ethan asked me that while we were sitting on the step. But I want to know too.
    â€œHe used to be fast as a speeding bullet.” The Bear walks up the tailgate plank.
    â€œColt loves to ride fast,” I say, getting even more excited.
    Inside the trailer, something rattles. The trailer rocks. The Bear says, “Back!” And hooves clang, clang on the tailgate as the horse backs down the plank onto the driveway.
    I stare at what looks like a gray ball of horse. Maybe it’s because it’s so dark, I tell myself. Maybe in the light of